


Where Do You Want to Start?

by infinite_regress



Series: Together [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Romance, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_regress/pseuds/infinite_regress





	Where Do You Want to Start?

They’ve just made love and Clara nestles by his side, resting her head on his shoulder with her arm over his chest. His arm is snug around her, holding her close. His breathing slows now, and she looks up at him, wondering if he is drifting off to sleep. 

He must sense her looking, as he opens his eyes, smiling. “Hello.”

He wasn’t at all what she imagined. Not that she’s entirely  _ what _ she imagined sleeping with the Doctor would be like. Part of her wondered if he would understand a thing about how a woman’s body works at all, but he quickly dispelled that fear, taking exquisite care to ask her if she liked this, or wanted that. Gentle when she needed it, on fire when mattered most.

“You were...not how I imagined,” she says.

He raises an eye brow. “You were about as bossy as  _ I _ imagined.”

“Oh? And how often did you imagine that?”

He laughs. “Once or twice...”

“Only once or twice? That’s slightly disappointing.” 

“...a day,” he adds. “Not complaining, by the way. About the bossiness.” His smile fades to something more serious. “So is this a one time thing, or do you predict more...kissing in our future?” 

She laughs. “What do you think?”  

“Judging by the smile on your face, I’m quietly optimistic.” 

“Good call.” She relaxes into his side, perfectly content.

He isn’t trying to leap up and dash away, and for once seems happy to be still.  She traces lazy lines on his chest, and after a few more moments touches his silver hair. He closes his eyes again, still smiling as her fingers tangle through his curls. His hair is softer than she imagined. Every part of her feels close to him now. He’s truly let her in, let her see him at his most vulnerable, and she's done the same. They felt the universe crash around them, sparking, dying a small death in each other’s arms, and she can’t imagine life without him now. Without even meaning to she murmurs, “I love you.” 

He smiles, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Love. That’s a big word."

“It’s a big feeling.” Suddenly she feels embarrassed, as if she’s given something away she should have held in, and she tries to back peddle. “Look, sorry, it doesn’t matter.”

He opens his eyes. “Don’t apologise,” he says softly. “Don’t back away. I might not know how to say it, but I’m right here with you in this.” He pulled her closer to his chest, holding her as if he could convey in a hug what he couldn’t in words. He sighs. “I’m actually a bit worried I’ll be rubbish, though.”

“You were definitely not rubbish." The Doctor is many things: restless, grumpy, brilliant. Sometimes sad and often kind, with a deep wildness in his hearts. She’s come to know so many things about him. Now she knows he’s a skillfull lover, too, and that one she’ll never forget. 

He laughs. “I don’t mean rubbish at  _ this _ . I mean the bits in between.” 

“Ah. I think we'll manage,” she says, and rolls onto her back.  

He props himself up on his elbow. “I’m sure you’ll tell me when I’m being rubbish.”

“Rely on it. But I’m not sure I’ll be much better. I wasn’t a good girlfriend to Danny," she sighs. "That relationship was destined to be difficult. There were three of us in it from the start.” It's an awkward kind of confession. She’s only lately admitted it to herself and saying it out loud isn’t easy. “We were on a collision course. I don’t think either of us could avoid it. We tried, though, didn’t we? To give each other up. I didn’t like my life without you in it. Felt like a book with the last chapter unwritten.” 

He pulls a confused face, as if he’s struggling to make sense of what she said, but she isn’t fooled.   

“Don’t look at me like that. You knew, didn’t you? That I wanted you just as much as I wanted him. He knew it, too. I think that’s partly why he didn't come back.”

“I didn’t know,” he insists. “I hoped, but I didn’t know.” 

“I miss Danny. But I want to be with you. No one else.”

He sighs. “Clara. Do you really want this life, though? Running through time and space? You know who I am. I can’t promise it will get any safer.”

Clara smiles, and leans in to kiss him. Before she can, more noise crashes from downstairs; the sound of a door being kicked open and loud, angry voices. 

His eyes widen. “I don’t like the sound of that.” 

Nor does Clara, and she scrambles into her clothes, throwing the Doctor his boots and pulling on her own. He opens the window as wide as it will go. Heavy boots clatter on the stairs.

“I don’t like to assume whoever’s thumping up the stairs is after us, but-”

Clara just raises her eyebrows and sticks one leg over the window sill. “I’d say it’s a safe bet.” She looks down. There’s a flat roof about six feet below. She lowers herself down, just as the door to their room crashes open. 

“Thief!” she hears. 

The Doctor catapults himself out of the window landing beside her with a grin. They’re still pretty high up, so they scramble to the edge of the roof. They must be over the kitchen, Clara realises. She spots a row of bins next to the door just as an arrow pings past her head.

She ducks, he dodges, and he makes a half-crazed leap onto the top of the bin, staggers, and turns to offer her his hand. She scrambles down, and together they tumble and jump. They land hard, her heart racing, kitchen rubbish flying from the bins as they tip and scatter. She’s tangled, her feet caught in plastic bags, vegetable peelings and empty tins, but he catches her waist and somehow she keeps her feet. She’s laughing and he is too, despite the yelling and an arrow bursting a black bin liner at their feet. It’s about as unromantic as it’s possible to be.

He steals a kiss anyway. “Are you ready?” he wants to know, and she wonders if he means is she ready to run, or ready for life with him. Because she  _ is _ ready. He’s wobbling into that odd run of his, and she feels like they are running towards something new. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, but she won’t give it up, not for anything.  Another arrow whizzes past and sticks in the ground near their feet. 

She finds his hand. They fit just right. It brings a bubble of pure excitement to her chest. “Ready,” she says, as they begin to run. “Where do you want to start?”  


End file.
